Casting the pieces upon the ground at his feet, Robert said, coolly:
"Two can play at that game, Halbert Davis. When you want another lesson
come to me."
He passed his discomfited antagonist and hastened to the little cottage,
where his mother was wondering what made him so much behind time.
CHAPTER III.
THE SPECIAL DEPOSIT.
Stung with mortification and more incensed against Robert than ever,
Halbert hastened home. The house in which he lived was the largest and
most pretentious in Millville--a large, square house, built in modern
style, and with modern improvements, accessible from the street by a
semi-circular driveway terminating in two gates, one at each end of the
spacious lawn that lay in front. The house had been built only three
years, and was the show-place of the village.
Halbert entered the house, and throwing his hat down on a chair in the
hall, entered the dining-room, his face still betraying his angry
feelings.
"What's the matter, Halbert?" asked his mother, looking up as he
entered.
"Do you see this?" said Halbert, displaying the pieces of his cane.
"How did you break it?"
"I didn't break it."
"How came it broken, then?"
"Robert Rushton broke it."
"The widow Rushton's son?"
"Yes; he's a low scoundrel," said Halbert bitterly.
"What made him break it?"
"He struck me with it hard enough to break it, and then threw the pieces
on the ground.
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